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The sun was warm, the breeze soft, and the park was unusually quiet for once. Caelus and Anaxagoras sat side by side on an old wooden bench beneath the shade of a wide-blossomed tree. The rest of their group had scattered off to finish errands and patrol duty, leaving the two of them alone in the peaceful lull of the afternoon.
Anaxagoras shifted slightly, pretending to be relaxed. In reality, he was anything but. His heart thudded in his chest like an overzealous drumline, and his mind was spinning with far too many thoughts—most of them involving the man sitting beside him.
Caelus. Right there. Just breathing. Just existing. So close.
He kept stealing glances, then immediately berating himself for being obvious. He tried focusing on a passing butterfly. It didn’t help.
And then—thump.
Something soft and heavy leaned against him. Anaxagoras stiffened.
Caelus' head had dropped onto his shoulder, his eyes closed, lips parted slightly in the kind of peaceful sleep people in paintings had. He was… asleep. On him.
Anaxagoras’s brain short-circuited.
Oh no.
His entire face went red—he could feel the heat creeping from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. He didn’t dare move. Or breathe. Or blink. He wasn’t even sure if time was still functioning.
“…I swear if this is a dream I’m going to be so mad when I wake up,” he whispered under his breath.
Caelus mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, his forehead brushing Anaxagoras’s shoulder more firmly.
Anaxagoras let out a squeak he would never admit came from him.
Flailing internally and paralyzed externally, he glanced down at Caelus’ peaceful expression. His heart gave another unhelpful flutter.
“…Cute,” he muttered, before covering his face with his sleeve and nearly melting on the spot.
Of course, that was the exact moment March 7th and Dan Heng rounded the corner.
March blinked. Then grinned way too wide.
“Oh my stars, am I interrupting something?”
Anaxagoras nearly fell off the bench.